A Fateful Night
by Sylviehawthorn
Summary: Set just after the department of mysteries events, life changes drastically for Draco Malfoy due to his Father's failure in retrieving the prophecy, and Voldemort ensures Draco is left to take the inhumane punishment... (Werewolf!Draco, eventual Drarry, warning that this fanfic will be graphic and will include mentions of physical violence/abuse, be careful guys)
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone, I'm back with another fanfic! A true gryffindor was great but I guess it kind of flopped out at the end and I think I should leave it at that sorry about that, I feel like I failed people :(. This idea I have had for sooo long and I know its a popular theory and I think its a really plausible one, so I decided to put it in my own words! If this isn't that good and doesn't do that well then I'll let it go but let me know what you guys think! P.S I have another account on Ao3 and I might put it up there too x

* * *

 _Malfoy Manner was a black outline under the dark and starry sky. But this was no peaceful evening for star gazing, this was hell condensed into one night, for one young boy at least. His mother had felt it on her arm, the striking and burning pain that radiated from the death eater mark, her face white with fear._

 _"What's happening mum?"_

 _"He's coming. Follow me and stay close to me the whole time. Don't let go of my hand."_

 _"I'm not five anymore, I can handle him- "_

 _"Do as I tell you. You have no idea." And with that Narcissa pulled her son's arm firmly and locked their hands together. They entered the dining room, and he was there. In the middle of the room surrounded by his favourite death eaters, was Voldemort. His eyes were so red, so full of rage, but his body and demeanour were still like a peaceful ocean. His voice was full of control and composure, Voldemort expressed his emotions on different platforms._

 _Draco didn't remember exactly what Voldemort had said, he remembered hearing the news of his father's imprisonment in Azkaban, as he had been caught by the ministry retrieving a prophecy for Voldemort, and he remembered feeling rage and hurt that his father could be treated like that. Then he remembered Voldemort's voice change as he told them that Lucius had smashed the prophecy, and had failed him greatly. He remembered feeling his mother's grip get a lot tighter, feeling her palms sweat against his. He remembered when he had realised how serious this was, and truly angry Voldemort was with his family. He remembered the words "This cannot go unpunished." Uttered from Voldemort's straight lips, and seeing his hand beckon him to come forward._

 _The beast. The one that never left Draco's head after that night. The one who left his mark, not just the physical._

 _Greyback._

 _He remembered his mother's pleads for mercy, her constant cries of 'No!'. Draco had never heard her like that, so desperate and powerless, he had no idea what all of this meant. "Step aside Narcissa." Greyback had growled, his heavy footsteps were drowning out the other sounds in the room. Draco was a deer in headlights, he couldn't move a muscle, he could only stare at him as he tried desperately to work out what was about to happen to him. He remembered feeling his mother's hand leave his, and this made Draco yell involuntarily. Greyback's face was right in front him, and Draco had begun to shake, a sheen of sweat on his forehead._

 _He remembered everything after that. Everything. In so much painful and exquisite detail. It would never leave him._

 _Greyback's touch. His smell. His hair. The pain. The screams from himself and his mother. His body on fire._

Draco shot up in his bed, his knuckles white as he clutched the duvet covers. His breaths came in desperate gasps; he could feel his pyjamas sticking to his sweating thin frame. Another nightmare had come and gone, and this was always the result for him, as it was always the same nightmare. Draco would not go back to sleep for the rest of the night, and he had only managed to get a meagre three hours and that was one of his worse nights (the best were six hours).

This was Draco's life, and he was learning to accept it if one night at a time. He would calm down in ten minutes, splash his face with cold water, and lay down in his bed for the rest of the night until morning, awake. Life would never go back to normal, not after that night, and Draco was learning that this was it for him.

He knew it would kill him one day, but for now he had duties to carry out and a mother to protect, he could never let that happen to her. Never.

Life had changed so much since the end of fifth year, and so had Draco's agenda on Voldemort. But there was no room for discussion about that, and no room for his emotions. For now, Draco would have to learn how to manage his new life, for his mother.

* * *

 _A gloomy and stagnant night had descended upon one young man. The summer air was sticky and humid against his face, all he wanted to do was climb into his bed (his Hogwarts bed at least), and never return. His friend's kind words and caring gestures were not having their desired effect, in fact, they were having quite the opposite effect of making him angry. He wished this was all a bad dream, just like one of his nightmares that was gone with the opening of his eyes. But of course, Harry knew better than to think like that._

 _His godfather, the best and bravest man in the world, had been killed by an evil and lifeless soul, in front of his eyes. Harry knew that the mental film of his godfather's death would carry on playing in his head for a long time; there was no stop button he could find. Grief was a poison in his brain, an incurable disease._

 _Which reminded him, shouldn't he be doing something right now?_

Harry shook his head from his day dream. He was back in the room - his room at the Dursley's to be specific - and he had stopped in-between changing a pillow case to day dream about _that_ day. He couldn't say his godfather's name, couldn't even think it. It was too painful, like pressing an open wound that was still oozing blood. Time had passed by Harry since then, but it had not healed him, it had only brushed his side with sympathetic strokes.

Harry longed for the summer holidays to be over, when he could be in the safest place in the world with his favourite people, and eat a square meal. But he would have to wait this one out, with only his disturbing thoughts and dreams to keep him company. Life had changed so much since the end of fifth year, and Harry would have to learn to adapt with his life line gone.

Petunia's screeching of Harry's name pierced the silence.

 _I'll go mad here…_


	2. Chapter 2

Hello everybody, so sorry this has taken a few weeks to get up, I really want to do this story line justice so I'm taking it slow, please be patient with me especially as I've had deadlines! Hope you enjoy and please review if you have time, Sylvie x

* * *

Harry was tired, _really tired_. He felt like he'd only had three hours sleep the entire summer holidays, and his friends could tell. They were cautious around him, taking every precaution not to say the wrong thing, scared of Harry's explosiveness that had come to light last term. Hermione's gentle calls of "Harry, are you okay?" were setting his teeth on edge.

 _Of course I'm not fucking fine._

He wanted to scream at them both, and sit at the other end of the Hogwarts express. But he had to keep his cool, he loved Ron and Hermione so much, and he couldn't afford to make any more rifts in their friendship. They were the only family he had left; he couldn't begin to image Voldemort wrapping his cold and corrupt hands around them, leaving Harry devoid of any comfort in life. Harry had to stop people from dying because of him, and that started now.

"Yea thanks." Harry replied for the umpteenth time to Hermione, self-consciously making sure his jacket sleeve was covering the most part of his right hand. Harry had punched a wall as he had woken from another nightmare the previous night. It was usually about his parents, Cedric, or his godfather, and he always awoke to find his pillow damp and his covers bunched at the bottom of the bed. But last night was different, it was another one of those Voldemort dreams as he had come to name them. The ones where he either was with Voldemort, or _was_ Voldemort. Where he felt his every emotion, his every move, taste and touch, vision and sound. Harry couldn't remember much about the scenery and who he was with, only anger, incredible anger, which would explain the wall punching. His heart was hammering like a booming drum when he woke, and he saw through his weak eyes the blurry red colour spreading across his fist as he homed in on the pain. Harry had had to tiptoe to the bathroom and wash his hand, holding his breath as his knuckles pulsated with pain. It wasn't how he had planned to spend the night before coming back to Hogwarts (as sleep never came back to Harry after that), but he didn't have a say in a lot of things his brain did anymore.

Ron sat carefully next to Harry, as if trying not to startle a baby bird, and Hermione sat opposite. Harry knew that this would be a long journey back to Hogwarts, he missed the days when it was the most exciting day of the year. He thought he might be able to get some sleep, but then remembered his sleeping habits that were out of his control, and made sure keep himself busy to stay alert. His eyes were stinging from being awake for so long, he knew the bags under his eyes and his pale skin were evident on his face.

 _Looks like I'm being a member of the walking dead for the rest of the day._

But it seemed that he wouldn't be the only one in this situation. As Harry was looking out of the compartment door, he saw a willowy white figure creeping past. A closer look at the pale face and white blonde hair revealed that it was Draco Malfoy, but not the one he had remembered from last term. This Draco was _deathly_ pale, and seemed to have a grey shine to his face and eyes. This Draco looked like he'd been beaten up. There were scratches on his face, his hair was not dissimilar to Harry's messy style, and Draco was not swaggering around like usual, he appeared to be hobbling.

Draco caught Harry's eye for a split second, before disappearing on the other side of the compartment door in a blur. Ron and Hermione hadn't noticed or recognised that it was Draco that had walked past the compartment, so Harry was left to contemplate Draco's new appearance. He would have thought life wouldn't have been so bad for him now Voldemort was back in power, and Draco could make even more disgusting threats to Harry and his friends.

 _Oh yea…_

Harry thought with deep satisfaction, as he remembered Lucius Malfoy would be dining with the dementors for many nights to come, in a hole for a home. Draco's family name was disgraced in both the wizarding world's and Voldemort's eyes, he was nothing now.

 _Probably why he looks so rough._

 _Good._

Harry decided that reversing their roles and becoming the bully Draco was to him would not work in Harry's favour, but Harry would NOT be kind to him. Not ever. Harry would not hold back others who wished to prod and poke Draco to humiliate him, that was their choice. But for now, Harry would merely observe this strange parallel universe Draco.

* * *

The Hogwarts feast was over, and everyone was nursing their full bellies back to their common rooms for a good night sleep. For most anyway. Harry had lost the capacity to eat like a normal sixteen-year-old boy because of his Aunt and Uncle barely feeding him for six weeks, so he had just a little food in his chestnut sized stomach. Harry also didn't sleep, not much anyway, certainly not the conventional good night's sleep everyone talked about.

As he, Ron and Hermione walked from the great hall towards the Gryffindor common room, some noise and commotion stopped them in their tracks. There were laughs and shouts, this didn't sound like any joke, the shouting sounded vicious and the laughs harsh. Harry panicked, as he assumed someone was being targeted.

The three of them pushed to the front of a small crowd that had formed, and Harry's sympathy quickly left him. The group were heckling at none other than Draco Malfoy. This was a very rare sight indeed.

"Your father's scum Draco. I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." As one of them spat at his feet. Draco was facing them side on, his head bowed so low Harry thought his neck might snap. He couldn't see his face.

"You've got no right to come back here. You should be locked up with him." Another shouted, followed by quieter agreements from the crowd. Draco didn't flinch the whole time, Harry thought he may have been petrified he was lifeless.

"Not got anything to answer with? That gob of yours finally fallen silent now you realise how much of a twat you are?"

But before Draco could have said any retorts, the blockage in the corridor had been noticed by the teachers, and Professor McGonagall came waving her arms for people to move along. Draco took a short look at the main heckler with dead looking eyes, the healing wounds on his face illuminated by the light, before hurrying off towards the Slytherin common room. Harry noticed that weaker looking walk again, no hint of any confidence or air of superiority in his posture, just an average, skinny boy.

"Blimey. He's changed, hasn't he? Wonder if You Know Who gave him and his mum a hard time after that idiot tried to be a death eater." Ron mused as they were walking through the portrait of the Gryffindor common room. Hermione looked in very deep thought, as if her head might have expanded from concentrating too hard. Harry knew this meant Hermione had noticed something unusual, and that she'd be taking a long trip to the library tomorrow. Harry shrugged his shoulders at Ron's remark, he hoped it was true, but didn't care if it wasn't. He had no mental energy to spare for that wicked family and their ties with Voldemort. The only thing he could think about now was his God father.

Harry went to bed with a fuzzy head that night, before realising that Ron's rhythmical snoring was actually very good for his sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello hello omg I'm so sorry for the slow update, but hey ho, I adore this story and even if I have no readers it will continue! A warning to you all that there is mention of self harm in this chapter so please be aware! Love you all and take care x

* * *

 _It's the full moon._

The first thought in Draco's head, as the clock turned to six o'clock in the morning. It was the worst time of the month for Draco, his night of torture and never ending rage, all because of a mistake he hadn't even made himself. Draco hated hearing girls complain about their 'time of the month' in the corridors passing, making him grit his teeth and bite his tongue. _You think a bit of stomach ache is hard? Try breaking every bone in your body as you lose your own mind and become a horrific beast for the night._

Draco was bitter to say the least, but there was another problem that was new to him now he had come back to Hogwarts.

Voldemort had forbidden that Draco take any Wolfsbane to make his transformations easier. He made sure no one during the summer gave it to him, and he forbade Draco or his mother to inform Hogwarts of his condition, so Draco would have great difficulty concealing his transformations to still be a member of not just the school, but society. Only Professor Snape knew of Draco being a werewolf, and was under instruction from Voldemort to keep an eye on him and make sure he was not helped by anyone. This was the first full moon where all these rules had become a reality as he had only ever transformed in the basement under Malfoy Manner, where he could scratch and kick the walls and himself as much as he liked. Draco had no idea how to control himself when he was transformed, he could barely remember them anyway, they all became one haze of darkness.

He had planned to sneak out during the night and go to the forbidden forest, but he'd have to be extra careful. He knew that big oaf Hagrid was completely devoted to caring for the god forsaken lump of trees, and if he or any of his regular visitors saw him right before he transformed he was doomed, and they would be too. He planned to use an invisibility spell, but since the night he was bitten, his magic had been failing him. Draco hated to admit it, but he felt completely and utterly _traumatised_ by the whole event, and he was damn sure any other person would. He was not well in his mind, and even his werewolf side felt it too. Draco's arms were always littered with oddly neat scratches that he could never explain when he came to, but he had come to a deflating conclusion that it was his werewolf's minds own doing. It made him feel incredibly vulnerable and weak, almost as if he wasn't even the full ferocious werewolf he was supposed to be, just a dodgy copy.

But this was his only plan for tonight's full moon to go as smoothly as possible, so there was no room for his magic failing him tonight. Draco knew that none of his lessons today would be any use to him, as his mind would be totally focused on transforming, the anxiety during the day was always drowning.

* * *

Draco ate dinner that evening that was fit for toddler, the tinniest portion he could get away with without it drawing attention. He left with everyone else, got ready for and into bed with everyone else, but he would not sleep. Draco managed to sneak out of bed without anybody noticing as they had all drawn their curtains around their beds (no one was very sociable in his dormitory) and headed downstairs.

Draco only had to dodge Filch, which was the easiest thing in the world, and the time came to perform his invisibility spell. Draco mustered all the energy he could find from his somewhat frail body and mind, and managed to mutter the incantation incredibly quietly. Draco felt the magic in his wand, and looked down expectantly. Upon realising that he had been successful, he had had to stifle his sigh of relief, he was almost there.

The grass made soft rhythmical whispers under his feet as he headed towards the forbidden forest, and Draco could already feel the full moon rising as twilight drew to a close, he picked up the pace. His breath kept catching in his throat, as a mixture of exhaustion and panic made breathing a difficult task. Hagrid's hut was soon behind him, which felt like a huge milestone, and as he reached the first layer of the forest, he felt the ripples of change happening in his body. The pain would be here any second, and Draco began to run so his screams would be less audible to anyone not far from the forest. Draco felt his foot catch on the root of a tree, and as he tumbled to the ground, he felt his body being taken over by the beast.

All his bones began to break, the cracking sound reverberated off the huge trees surrounding him. Next came Draco's screams, white hot pain filling every ounce of his body, blinding him and cancelling out anything he might have heard. He felt his mouth stretching out and his larynx crying out for him to stop, but the pain was always too much, it never got any better with any transformation. He saw the ground grow further away from him as his bones grew longer and his body change. Draco felt his mind slipping, the normal conscience was being swallowed by the werewolf's, buried until the moon would finally disappear. He felt the anger taking over, all rational thoughts left his mind as quickly as they came, even words were lost from his trail of thought. The rage and the violence was here, the werewolf hungry for hunt and attack, blood and gore, and to release the howl. One thing remained however, one painful image that the wolf couldn't comprehend, perhaps an emotion he couldn't describe in anyway, something that made his chest ache and his movements slower. Sadness, was the only word the wolf had left in his mind.

* * *

Hagrid rolled over in his bed, feeling rather restless, when he heard some distant cry from the direction of the forbidden forest. This cry was a pained cry, like something was under attack. Hagrid furrowed his brows at the unusual tone of the next few cries, this cry sounded almost like…a human. He shot up in bed, his emergency instincts turned on and ready to take any action necessary. His mind wandered back to that night when Harry had run into an although weakened Voldemort in the forbidden forest, and he shuddered. He had no choice but to investigate tonight, he wouldn't let anyone come that close to danger under his watch again, especially after he nearly lost his job over that idiot Malfoy and his run in with Buckbeak.

Hagrid gathered his dragonhide coat, his pink 'umbrella', and a few other weapons including his favourite bow and arrow. Fang was no weapon, just a friend for moral support, and in case anything happened to Hagrid, he could report to the head master. He stepped out into the cooler September night, the full moon shining down on the treetops making them look silver, and began taking big strides towards the edge of the forest. The cries had died down now, but what Hagrid heard next as he entered the forest troubled him even more.

Cutting right through the silence of the evening, was a werewolf's howl. The howl was long but did not sound confident, almost troubled as if it was injured. Hagrid tread incredibly carefully, he could tell this werewolf was not using wolfsbane and was therefore not in its right mind, and he knew how easily they could kill in their blind rage. Hagrid used his oil lamp to light the way, and cursed himself for not oiling the squeaky hinges on the handle that marked his every step.

The forest was silent, and Hagrid stopped to make sure his footsteps were not muffling other sounds. After a minute or so of only the sound of his own breathing and Fang's loud drooling, Hagrid began to walk again, this time going a little more west. It was then he saw blood marked against a tree on his left, and with one sniff Hagrid knew it was the werewolf's. This made Hagrid worry not about the state of the werewolf itself, but what had managed to injure it that was nearby in the forest. A few more blood stains later and Hagrid could hear movement, he knew he must be close to the beast. Hagrid never really got scared in the forest as he knew the creatures so well, but this night was one of his most intense visits to the forest, one where he knew there was a chance he may not leave it alive. As Hagrid approached an opening, places where larger and more dangerous creatures tended to rest, he began stopping to hide behind trees so he was less likely to be spotted.

He saw its silvery long back first, just making out its fine fur. Another glance further around the tree and he could see the blood stains, all up the werewolf's arms, staining that perfect white fur. The wolf was hunched over on a rock, breathing faster than normal, and obviously injured. But Hagrid had never seen a werewolf so calm before, so unmoving, it should have smelt Hagrid by now and would be sniffing around for him. This was an experience he would never forget. The wolf's head was hung low, a look of shame upon the part of its face Hagrid could see, what had the wolf been through to look so ashamed?


	4. Chapter 4

HEY GUYS, I AM SO SO SORRY. I love writing this story and have neglected it for so long, I really hope any readers if you're out there will still enjoy, I've been having a really tough time with life at the moment so again I'm so sorry for my absence, thank you so much for reading it means the world! Love you all x

* * *

Draco woke the next morning with his usual blinding headache that he got after a full moon night. He sat up, clutching his head and trying to shield his eyes from the unusually bright sun. Draco suddenly realised how cold he was, and how naked he was…and how he was outside…in the forbidden forest.

 _Holy fucking shit._

He had never gotten the chance to walk back to Hogwarts and his bed after the full moon had gone and night had turned to day. He must have passed out in the forbidden forest, naked as the day he was born and filthy. Draco had no idea what time it was, it could be midday for all he knew. He had absolutely no way of getting back to the castle without being seen and in a dignified manner, and even he made it he had no excuse as to where he had been all this time.

And with those horrible thoughts, Draco realised, that this is _exactly_ what Voldemort wanted. To humiliate him, to trap him in impossible situations, to isolate him from the rest of the world, to pay the high price for his father's error. His plan was working, and Draco could do nothing to stop it from happening. He knew that one day, Draco would either be found out and cast out from society, or be killed by the beast inside, Voldemort would win either way.

Draco began to shiver with both panic and sheer cold having been naked the whole morning, and to his embarrassment he had started to cry. He pictured how feeble he must look, curled in on himself, a sobbing and underweight boy, the image made him gag.

The only plan he could think of on how to get himself back to the castle safely was to use the same invisibility spell to walk back to his room and put some clothes on, but even then, he had no alibi as the boys in his dormitory may have noticed that he wasn't occupying his bed for the whole morning. Plus, in this emotional state, Draco highly doubted he could even cast the spell, let alone make it last until the Slytherin common room, and he did not like the image of him being suddenly revealed in the school corridors. Another thought then occurred to Draco's already crowded head.

 _Where's my wand._

Of course, he'd dropped it during his transformation, and of course he had no idea where the exact spot was. Of _fucking_ course. Rage filled his blood stream, mixing with the hopelessness and self-hatred, creating the most rancid concoction of emotions flowing through him. He dug his palms into his eyes until he saw purple and blue flashes to squeeze the poison from his brain. It didn't work.

Time was running out for him, and he realised that he had no plan that would work out in him getting to the castle completely safe and not found out. He also realised just how injured he was as he looked down at his arms and saw so many cuts right the way up to his shoulders, all of them red and burning. He also felt a slice on his cheek bone sting as his salty tears ran down it. Just as Draco was preparing to die or live as one of those free werewolves that ran around forests in packs, he heard faint voices.

Draco's senses were on edge as he scrambled quietly to a hiding place behind a tree and some exotic looking shrubs, barely breathing. The voices got closer, and Draco realised with a horrible flip of his stomach that he recognised one of them, the distinct tones of his headmaster Albus Dumbledore carried through the air. Draco clung to the tree for dear life, literally, as he knew the consequences of anyone finding out his secret. The second voice became clearer, Rubeus Hagrid's to be exact, the great oaf, and Draco realised it was only a matter of seconds before they found him, he knew he couldn't hide from Dumbledore. Draco was frozen, he couldn't breathe or think or move or function.

The foot steps stopped, and Dumbledore put his arm in the air to halt Hagrid behind him. "I think we are not alone." He said in the most matter of fact tone. "Is anyone there? We're not here to hurt you, come out."

Draco covered his mouth with his hand, noticing it was trembling with so much force it shook his head. Tears were spilling over at an alarming rate, stinging the tiny cuts on his knuckles and fingers. A few seconds of silence followed, before Dumbledore called out again more gently, "Please, I want to help."

More silence. Deafening unbearable silence. Dumbledore sighed, before waving his wand gently over the area, and upon hearing a slight thud and grunt from a nearby tree, began walking over towards it. But before he could reach it, a frantic voice came from behind it.

"Please. Don't…"

"I can't be seen."

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Nothing can hurt you here. Hogwarts is safe for you." He tried to reassure the poor soul, but it didn't seem to have the desired effect.

"You don't understand! I'll die if you do!"

A sob.

"Please! Just stay away."

Dumbledore was determined however, and kept on walking towards the voice. He could hear more frantic sobbing and quickened breaths now, and because of his freezing charm he knew the person couldn't run or move. By the sound of the voice Dumbledore already knew who it was, but wanted to see for himself the damage that had been done and how to help. He rounded the tree corner to find Draco looking up with huge grey and blood shot eyes, injured, and curled in on himself on the floor. He began screaming violently after a few seconds, as if he had just looked death in the face, and Dumbledore put him to sleep with a wave of his hand, not wanting Draco to suffer this moment anymore. Hagrid was close behind, gasping as he took in Draco, whispering "Merlin" to himself.

"Come on Rubeus, lets get him to the castle quickly. We cannot be seen." Said Dumbledore quickly, as he conjured a blanket around Draco's waist and grabbed his arm, as Hagrid held onto his. Within a second they had apparated into Dumbledore's office, and within a few seconds he had set up a small area with a hospital bed and a medicine cabinet next to it. Draco was laid gently on top of the bed by Hagrid, as Dumbledore spoke "Hagrid, get Madam Pomfrey here immediately, he cannot be treated in the hospital wing, it's too exposed, he must remain here. No one comes in this office." With a curt nod and a 'yes sir', Hagrid strode easily to the door and left. Dumbledore looked over Draco's body, and let out the deep sigh he'd been holding in. How had a problem this big occured so early in the school year?

* * *

Harry had had a terrible sleep, as usual. He was hoping his session with Dumbledore would wake him up a little bit. Dumbledore had introduced Harry to his pensive and was searching through certain memories with Harry to try and find any answers in hopefully getting rid of Voldemort in the future. Also, Harry could translate the parsel tongue. This afternoon during a free period, another session was due, and Harry was on his way to Dumbledore's office when he saw a disturbed looking Hagrid striding full speed away from his office. Harry went to say hello to him and ask if everything was ok, when Hagrid almost passed Harry without a glance.

"Oh hello Harry. Don't go in Dumbledore's office. No questions." Hagrid said at incomprehensible speed and through heavy sighs of exasperation, before setting off again in the opposite direction at full throttle before Harry could even begin to ask as to why. He stood there for a few moments, perplexed, before deciding he would walk towards the door of Dumbledore's office and listen outside for any clue as to what was so secretive and why his session must have either been cancelled or forgotten about.

Just as Harry got to the stop of the eagle stairs and approached the huge ebony door to his office, the door was opened a jar.

"Harry, I just remembered our meeting." Dumbledore spoke through the small opening in the quietest tone, Harry was immediately put on edge by this. "I'm sorry but we will have to postpone it for today, I have discovered a matter so urgent that it may be a few days before it is resolved." Harry swallowed thickly, something bad must have either happened or was about to happen, and his first instinct was that it was Voldemort's doing. Just as Harry nodded and was about to say something, he heard a frail groan come from within the office. But before he could contemplate it, Dumbledore had quickly shut the door with a 'good day Harry', and all was silent.

He had to tell Ron and Hermione about this, otherwise he would burst.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello my lovelies! I cannot apologies enough for no updates on this story, I don't even know if anyone still reads my stuff anymore, but I enjoy writing so I will continue anyway. it would be so nice if you could review for me and tell me what you think :) It's been a really really difficult 5 months for me and my mental health so that's also why I haven't been posting, but I am in such a better place right now and I really hope it lasts for me :) Enjoy! Drarry is coming soon I promise x

* * *

Draco felt like he'd died, and when he awoke, he really wished he had. He was covered in a thick blanket and could feel heavy bandages on his arms, as he opened his eyes to a very ornately decorated ceiling with stars and gold beams. He knew he'd seen it before, but he couldn't remember where. His brain was just coming to when he saw a great white face with half moon spectacles looming over him, and for a horrible second he was reminded of the glowing full moon. The events of the previous…morning? Afternoon? What time even was it? He remembered all of what had happened, but he had no idea how long it had been. Dumbledore's deep voice startled him.

"Hello Draco. You're in my office. You've been drifting in and out for a few hours, it is 6 o clock in the evening."

Dumbledore was so soothing, and for a tiny second Draco actually believed that he and everyone else was safe and that he was ok. But then the reality hit him, and he shot bolt up right and clutched his head as he tried to find the right words to say, making sure the blanket did not slide down his delicate frame.

"Sir you don't understand, you need to let me leave right now. I can't be here. Forget everything you saw this morning- "

"Draco please." Dumbledore explained as he tried to lie Draco back down, "You are too unwell to leave, and you are not in any danger, I can promise that."

Draco was so frustrated, and he could still feel the quick anger of the werewolf running through his body. "Yes, _I_ might not be in danger, but my family very well could be! You don't understand sir- "

"Your mother is safe for now, please try not to worry about her. We at the order are doing all we can, but for now you need to lie back and rest, you are very injured." Dumbledore lifted his gentle hand in the air before Draco could speak again, and he began to lay back down on the bed he had been resting on.

 _The Order of the Phoenix, is looking after my mother? Is protecting me? Did I hit my head?_

The words came out like vomit from his pale cracked lips.

"Why are you helping us? Why did you bring me here and heal me? In what world are we on the same side or however you want to put it."

Dumbledore interrupted. "Draco you don't need to ask these questions- "

"Let me speak for fucks sake!" Draco practically screamed across the room. He could feel his muscles shaking with this unexplainable rage and betrayal and humiliation and _God_ his head hurt so bad.

"My father is in Azkaban for helping The Dark Lord. Both he and my mother have the dark mark. He helped lure your precious disciple Potter to the Department of Mysteries. I'll ask you again _Sir_ , why are you helping me? Do you _pity_ me because I'm some dirty, bastard werewolf, because I'm some lost soul?" Draco spat. In his rant had begun to stand up on whatever was left of his bruised and scarred legs, and he clung his bed for support whilst the anger flowed through him, bearing his teeth. Draco suddenly felt incredibly aware of how much the wolf lived in him during the hours of no full moon.

He inhaled to continue his vicious rant, but a striking pain shot through his ribs, and Draco grabbed his side, losing his support on the bed and falling to the floor. He couldn't breathe but was breathing too much at the same time, his ribs crying out with every inhale and exhale they had to manoeuvre for Draco's panicked lungs. Dumbledore walked to Draco's weak figure, and gently levitated him to the comfort of the bed.

Draco could feel the fight in him waning, as the anger was brewing into a mighty storm of despair. Dumbledore spoke in an impossible tone of gentleness, one Draco felt he was unworthy of receiving - he was disgusted with himself for both succumbing to the help of The Order, and for failing his mother and The Dark Lord.

"Draco. It does not matter to me, or the members of The Order, what you may think of us, or what your family have done to aid Voldemort. We help because we must, we cannot let the consequences of Voldemort's unfathomable hatred ruin lives like your own. We fight for everyone, Draco, no matter who their family is. That is where Voldemort and I differ." Dumbledore smiled gently and walked to the medicine cabinet.

Draco hated how right Dumbledore was in that moment, but he was in too much agony and anxiety to retort even with a look. So he just turned his eyes away and tried to focus on the softness of the blanket on his body and the pillow cradling his head.

"We've been treating your injuries, you have some from the past few months that have not had a chance to heal. Werewolf injuries are difficult to treat even on the werewolf itself, so I'm assuming Voldemort has forbid you to take any wolfsbane or healing ointments in a further attempt to mark your life?" Dumbledore asked, a little too frank for Draco, as the memories from that night began to circle his head once more. It was hard enough enduring nightmares about it every time he went to sleep, so Draco just nodded in silence.

"You can stay in my office for this evening as you're too weak to be moved, and we don't want you exposed to the prying eyes of students in the hospital wing. All teachers know of your absence, only a few aware of the reason. It appears The Dark Lord does not know of your situation yet, and Professor Snape is keeping watchful eye over your mother. The first sign of intelligence that Voldemort knows what has happened, your mother will be moved to a safe house." Draco couldn't quite believe how much care was being taken of him and to protect his mother, it was both embarrassing, humiliating, but a small bright light of gratitude was eating him up inside.

"Sir, how will you know if The Dark Lord has information on my…condition?" Draco asked hoarsely, his throat sore from its use in the past 24 hours. Dumbledore simply smiled.

"We have eyes in many places Draco."

"Do you think someone's been injured? Attacked? What if it's a teacher!"

Hermione was sitting across from Harry in the common room, the fire light emphasising her wide-eyed worry about the groaning subject heard by Harry in Dumbledore's office.

"Hope it's Snape" Ron sneered back, and Hermione just rolled her eyes.

They had been in heated and concerned discussion for most of the afternoon trying to figure out what this urgent matter was that Dumbledore had been occupied with the whole day. Harry felt a nagging feeling in his stomach. He knew how important his sessions with the pensive were to him and Dumbledore, and he wasn't prepared for another catastrophe, or worse, a death.

 _No. Not now. Not Sirius. Not now, focus Harry._

"Harry, you're biting your nails again." Hermione said gently, nudging Harry out of his thoughts.

Harry shoved his hand away quickly, twiddling his thumbs instead. A nervous habit he'd picked up in the last few months, whenever he could feel the memories and the thoughts over taking him, since…since…

"Harry, do you want to talk?" Asked Ron hesitantly.

Ah yes, Harry knew what this meant. Did he want to go into detail about his feelings on _that_ night and talk about grief and cry all over their shoulders and have to think about the _one_ family member that ever mattered to him.

Harry just shook his head, and sighed a heavy sigh, whilst Ron and Hermione looked glumly to each other. Harry could feel what a grey cloud of misery he was becoming on their friendship, he'd often leave the common room in the evenings earlier than he used to, to give them some time to laugh together. Time without the boy who'd lost one of the most precious things in his life, where they didn't have tip toe around his emotions. Harry tried to be ok, he really did. But in all honesty, he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed, _really_ laughed, and enjoyed a day with the people he loved.

Just as he was about to call it a day with the two of them, Harry saw a girl with white blonde hair across the room and was reminded that he hadn't run into their favourite person, Draco Malfoy, the whole day.

"Have either of you seen Draco in lessons today?" Harry asked suddenly, stunned at the sound of his own voice working for once.

Ron and Hermione both shook their heads, "I'd assumed he'd either got beaten up for being the cock he is ("Ron!" Hermione had interjected), or he'd got to embarrassed to come to lessons anymore, especially with that scratched up face of his."

Both Harry and Hermione looked inquisitively at each other, like they were solving the same puzzle in their heads.

"What, you think something's happened to Malfoy?" asked Ron slightly shocked.

"I don't know. Don't you think its odd though, how he's just not been in the lessons and no teacher acknowledged it? Also, don't you think he seems a bit, I don't know, too sad for Draco?" Harry remarked. He had no idea what he was getting at, but something just didn't feel right about the whole situation.

"I mean, wouldn't you be sad if your father had gone to prison and everyone knew how horrible your whole family was?" asked Hermione, but she too didn't seem convinced by the whole thing, and Harry suspected that she'd be taking a trip to the library at the first opportunity.

"Didn't know you cared for the bloke that much." Said Ron, clearly tired of discussing his least favourite Hogwarts student.

"I _don't_ care." Harry retorted back, with more bite than was probably necessary. But it was true, he was intrigued because he cared for Dumbledore and his friends, not for that slimy twat Malfoy and his family.

 _Sirius was a relative of the Malfoy's._

Harry rubbed his eyes until he saw blue spots, trying to squeeze out that wretched inner voice that wouldn't stop feeding him memories and pain about Sirius. He decided to call it a night and headed up to the boy's dormitory in a very solemn mood. Harry didn't know yet how violent his dreams would be that night, filled with anger, rage, betrayal, woken after every single one. The odd thing was, he was sure some of those emotions were not his own.

One thing he definitely did not envision was Dumbledore rousing him in the early hours of the morning, asking for Harry on an urgent matter.

"Have you been dreaming Harry?" asked Dumbledore hurriedly.

"Sir? -"

"Answer me Harry."

"…Yes Sir."

"Follow me to my office. Quickly."

This could not be good.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello honeys! Agghhhh please don't hate me for no updates, also warning this chapter is sad and contains death, I won't spoil it but agh I really hope you like where I'm going with this, it took me so long to decide this was the right choice, please review I love you all lots! Sylvie x

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Draco had been sleeping lightly on the make shift hospital bed in Dumbledore's office when he'd seen the white azure of a patronus enter the room, in the very early hours of the morning from what he could tell. Dumbledore immediately roused from his chair, Draco realising that he had chosen to make that his bed for the night, filled with that unfamiliar feeling of being protected. The patronus was a doe, but it spoke with the voice of Severus Snape.

 _"He knows. Hide the boy."_

Were the only words it spoke before evaporating, and Draco's mind clicked back into place as he realised what this meant. Voldemort knew he had been helped. His mother was in danger.

Draco had to stifle a yell, and he jumped out of bed so quickly he thought he had broken his ribs once more, trying to remember how to breathe like a human and not a fish out of water. Dumbledore was quick on his feet for his age, and strode over to Draco with haste, fire and urgency in his eyes.

"I will take you to a safe house. No questions Draco, no time. (Draco had tried to speak but only managed panicked mumbles) Grab my arm. Now Draco!" The stern tone shocking Draco to his senses.

After the few seconds of shaking hesitation, Draco grabbed tightly onto Dumbledore's forearm, and they apparated with a pop. Draco's white face of shock frozen in the place it had been.

"Severus…please." Narcissa whispered through her stifled sobs, her face contorted in sheer despair. They had both felt their mark's slithering on their arms, burning them. They knew he was coming for answers, and for rage. They had been rumbled by Yaxely. Unfortunately, Narcissa's occlumency had failed her after knowing what her son had gone through, and without the support of Lucius, she was crumbling from the inside. The mothers love was burning her inside, knowing she could do nothing to be with Draco, or help him. Love is beyond any magic in the world.

So when Yaxely had confronted her suspiciously about her woes, the love and pain was too strong to be shielded by her false excuse, and Yaxely saw right through them. It was endgame.

Both she and Severus were in Malfoy Manor, minutes away from facing the Dark Lord.

"Narcissa it is my duty to take you to a safe house-"

"Fuck your duty!" Narcissa had screamed, releasing her venom onto the world, feeling so powerless. "Draco needs protecting, not me. You swore to protect him, with your life Severus! Please, if it buys Draco time I would give my life right now." She was pleading, on her knees, her face glimmering in the moonlight with fresh tears.

"Narcissa, Dumbledore is with the boy-"

"If I'm not here, he will look for me and he _will_ find me." Interrupted Narcissa again, more urgent this time, her voice cracking. "When he does, and finds I am with Draco he will hurt him and kill me after, and I will not watch my son be tainted again. _Never_ Severus." Her deep brown eyes full of fire and desperation meeting Severus', he had never seen such determination from a mother, its power was almost frightening to him.

"Go now and he won't see you, he won't know you were here. You can protect my Draco. _Please."_ Narcissa gripped Severus' cloak, her knuckles turning white. Severus knew deep down, he was not going to leave Malfoy Manor with Narcissa. He knew Voldemort wanted her life for the kindness Draco had been allowed and for not obeying his rules, and to hurt Draco more than any werewolf wound could. But she was right, if Narcissa left with Severus tonight, he would find her, and Draco. The safe house would be compromised, and both may be dead by tomorrow.

Severus stepped back from Narcissa, trying to find the last words to speak to her.

"Please tell Draco I'm sorry. Tell him I love him so much." Narcissa crumpled under the force of her own sobs, clutching her chest, inhaling the air like she hadn't breathed for hours.

"Go Severus!" She screamed, waving her arm at him.

"I'm so sorry." Was the last Narcissa heard from Severus, before he turned on the spot, and was gone with a faint pop. Now, she would face Voldemort alone, her family torn apart. She pictured holding her son in her arms for that first time, how perfect he was, and how perfect he would always be in her eyes. She smiled down at her thoughts invisible to the world and watched her tears land on the floor. When the second one fell, she heard the haunting flowing of a cloak brushing the floor, heard a silent breath, and felt the presence of death in front of her.

Draco waited in the dimly lit room of the safe house he had been dropped in by Dumbledore. The air was salty on his lips and nose, and a sea breeze crept into the cracks of the ancient beach house, chilling him a little. He was in his pyjamas (summoned from his room by Dumbledore in the evening), feeling strangely like a young boy, waiting for his mother to comfort him when he couldn't sleep at night. At least Draco would see her soon, he prayed he would hold her and everything would be ok, even if they had been found out, they'd be together.

Draco's grey eyes reflected the ever darkening candle light, clutching his knees to his chest, he kept glancing over to the window for any signs of life or whispers in the dark. He caught sight of the scratches littering his slender hands, blood orange in the light, and looked away in shame. He'd almost forgotten why they were in this mess in the first place.

Because of _him._

The horrid beast that lived inside.

Yes, he hadn't turned _himself_ into the werewolf.

And yes, he hadn't banned _himself_ from taking any wolfsbane, or asking anyone for help. No, that was all Voldemort's doing.

But still, Draco was always carrying guilt around, he could never put it down, just like he couldn't part from the werewolf inside.

Draco wasn't one for melancholy, or at least he never had been. But in the past few months, he'd felt so drowned with depression that he contemplated just slipping off the astronomy tower, or rooting through Snape's potions cupboard to find that fatal bottle. He felt dramatic after the most intense thoughts passed, but it always lingered in the back of his mind – an escape route of sorts. But he still had his mother, and his father albeit in the most secure prison. So he trundled on, every day like walking through thick, black jelly, with the tiniest hope that things _may_ improve one day.

Draco was startled out of his meditation by a faint pop coming from the beach. He shot up from the sofa and strained to see through the window who had arrived. He saw Dumbledore's white, billowing cloak with beard to match, and there was another with him, someone smaller and young but he couldn't tell who. The latter seemed to be hurry to catch up with the headmaster, and Draco could make out them rubbing their eyes under round glasses. Draco's jaw began to drop slowly as he realised who was walking beside Dumbledore – Harry _Fucking_ Potter.

How dare Dumbledore go dragging other people into this, how _dare_ he tell his worst enemy his darkest and most dangerous secret (Draco assumed Potter knew the situation anyway). It was none of Potter's business being here, Draco wanted more than anything to apparate out of the safe house right this second, he did not want to endure Potter's sly looks and abrasive voice – like nails on a _fucking_ chalk board. Where was his mother? He felt like a small child, but he couldn't suppress the overwhelming need for his comforting mother's voice, and her gentle hands.

The pair arrived at the door, and Dumbledore opened it with a silent spell. Draco narrowed his eyes as Harry stumbled in after Dumbledore, looking bleary eyed, clearly trying to look at anything _but_ Draco. Dumbledore didn't hesitate to start speaking:

"Draco, I'm sorry to have sprung this on you so quickly, but Harry is here to help and is sworn to secrecy." Draco took the effort to scoff quietly to himself, and roll his eyes a little – _sworn to secrecy my arse, that little prick didn't shut up about Voldemort all year._ "As you may or may not know, Lord Voldemort and Harry here have an unexplained but powerful mental connection, and Harry was disturbed in the night by dreams of Voldemort's anger about your situation. We are hoping Harry can help us with Voldemort's whereabouts and emotional state, so we can keep you safe from him." Draco didn't know about this connection, and was a little taken aback by the fact that even Dumbledore didn't know why it was occurring, or he just wasn't letting on. However, he didn't know how to feel. Did Potter want a thank you? Did Dumbledore? He decided on a curt nod to both of them, and went back to staring out of the window in expectantly for his mother. He just wanted her, then he'd be able to speak again, and function.

After another five minutes of painful, stifling silence, there was another pop that came from the beach. Draco was like a startled cat, eagerly staring into the black night, waiting to see his mothers face. However, he didn't see who it was until they were almost at the door of the house. Professor Snape's jet black hair and clothes made him invisible against the night sky, and it wasn't until he was opening the door that he remembered – _he shouldn't be alone._ It was like a concrete slab dropping into the bottom of Draco's stomach, and felt himself turn white. His legs moved faster than his mind off of the sofa, and he heard his voice spill out "Where's my mother." It wasn't a question, it was a demand, a demand from the wolf.

Snape was stood like stone, looking deep into Draco's eyes, unreadable as ever. It was a few more seconds before he simply said in the most gentle tone he'd ever heard from the man – "I'm sorry Draco."


End file.
